Lockdown
by Sidney James TD Lemon 1900
Summary: The Lightman Group is put under a lockdown when they learn a bomb has been rigged to the building. They face an old enemy from the past...all the while, Cal is sick. One hell of a day for him, poor chap. Will change their lives forever after this one!
1. Lockdown

_an: Right so this is a mix of inspiration from Honey and Tractor Man. God, what can I say? I love the desperate situations. So yeah, I ripped the bomb idea from T.M, but it was either that or this other stupid idea i had that was too complicated and hard to explain. So...bomb it is. Sadly, I'm not very wise in the FBI department, so if I'm wrong in some parts there, just point them out to me and I'll see what i can do to make this story more believable. Hang in there with me, I just wanted to trap everyone in the building for a while ;) _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Lie to Me _they belong to **FOX**. bless them.

**

* * *

Lockdown**

Cal Lightman slowly sat down at his desk, taking much care to his aching head…and body in general. God almighty, how he couldn't wait to end this day and just go home. He had been fighting a particularly nasty bug for the last few days, but there was so much work to be done, he didn't have the time to take a rest. Case after bleedin' case…the Lightman Group had been an utter madhouse as of late. But that meant that business was booming, and he had to take advantage of that, especially since their finances were in the hole.

He looked up to the clock that was sitting on his desk and let out a long groan. It was only ten in the morning. "Bloody hell," he said quietly, resting his head on his arms folded on his desk.

On cue, half a second later, his door swung open, revealing Reynolds. "Lightman," he barked.

"What?" came a muffled reply.

"We uh…you ok?"

"Yeah, brilliant. What is it?" Lightman asked, raising his head and resting his chin on his arms.

"We got a situation," he said darkly as he closed the door behind him, looking anxious.

"What, so early?"

Reynolds ignored him and strolled to his desk, crossing his arms. "Yeah. Your building has been compromised."

Cal squinted his eyes in confusion. "Excuse me?"

"I just got a phone call from the FBI. They've got reason to believe that this building," he said fiercely, pointing his finger down at the ground, "is rigged with a bomb." Cal snapped up from his slouched position in alarm.

"Bloody hell," Cal said, getting out of his chair. He swayed for a fraction of a second, feeling oddly dizzy, but ignored it and walked around his desk in front of Reynolds. "We gotta evacuate-…"

Reynolds shook his head. "We got the threat saying that if anyone tries to leave, it goes off. No one comes in, no one goes out…or…"

Cal waved him off. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I get it," he said quickly. He stood in silence for a second and licked his lips anxiously. "So what then?"

"FBI is trying to come up with the source of the call-…"

"Nah, not that, I mean what can we do about the bomb? We gotta find it so we can…I dunno, diffuse it or wha'ever it is you guys do."

Reynolds scoffed. "I'm an FBI agent, not James Bond. Bombs exactly aren't my specialty, Lightman."

"Well we've got to do _something_. How do we even know this threat is real? Could be a hoax or something to get our attention."

"Well they've got it, don't you think?"

Cal's lips tightened. "Did they say what they want?"

"No. Just a warning. We're not even sure if it's true or not." Cal started to open his mouth to say something, but Reynolds cut him off. "Foster and Loker are going over the phone call already to analyze it. But at the moment, we're not taking any chances. I've already got Torres gathering everyone else in the conference room to explain the situation to the rest of the staff."

"'Ow many people we got here today?"

"Just nine of us right now. Everyone else is out in the field or…whatever it is you have your people do. They've already been notified not to come near the building."

Cal nodded again, feeling slightly numb at the situation. "Right," he paused, waiting for Reynolds to say more. "So that's it? We just sit on our arses and wait?"

"Unless you guys can figure out that this is just a scare, then yeah. FBI is doing everything they can right now and is keeping in touch."

Cal sighed, "Great."

* * *

_More to come soon, in fact i'm writing chapter 2 as we speak. I know this bit is short, but i just wanted to establish the situation asap to see what you all think. Review?_


	2. Bombs and Tea

_See? Told ya I'd have more up soon. Let me know if I'm writing OOC at all, please, I try not to. _**

* * *

**

**2. Bombs and Tea**

Reynolds left Cal's office, giving him a moment to collect himself before facing his team. _So much for going home early…_he thought bitterly. The thought of being trapped there for god knows how long made him groan, since he had already been there for a day anyhow. He had spent the night before up all night running between his office and the viewing lab, trying to wrap up a previous case. Now he was wishing he had gone home, especially since he was feeling like utter crap at the moment. _Bollocks_, he thought as he let out a horrendous cough.

It was going to be one hell of a day for the Lightman Group. And for Cal Lightman himself.

A few moments later, Cal strolled into the lab across the hall where Gillian and Loker were sitting in front of one of the computers. "Is that the caller threat then?" Cal asked.

Gillian nodded, casting a quick glance at him. "Yeah we…" she slowed down as she took another glimpse at the dreadful looking Cal, "…we aren't getting much from it."

"Much?" Loker jeered. "We're not getting _anything _from it. Completely monotone. No emotion whatsoever."

"Play it for me," Loker punched a key on the keyboard and Cal watched the screen as the sound waves bounced across.

"This is a warning for The Lightman Group. There is a bomb in the building. Do nothing. No one is to enter or leave the building or its catastrophe. We will contact them shortly."

As Loker said, completely void of any emotion…or much life, at all. Short, sweet, and to the damn point. "Lovely," Cal muttered, "they know who they're dealing with, apparently. Didn't want to leave us anything to work with."

"So what do we do?" Foster asked nervously. Cal looked at her and his heart sank a bit. Her face was fearful and anxious, but she was desperately trying to mask it in front of him and Loker, wanting to be strong.

He heaved a sigh. "Nothing, much we can do, according to Agent Bond over there," he jerked his head towards the conference room where Reynolds had joined Torres, "but I personally think we oughta try lookin' for the bomb ourselves. If we find it, we can call the FBI and maybe they can talk us through-…"

"You're not serious," Foster interrupted.

"What? You got a better idea? Suits me better than just sittin' on my hands all bloody day!" Cal cried out. He paused to cough before continuing. "An' what's the harm in finding it? If we know where it's at, we can move everyone as far away from it as possible, increase our chances of _not_ being blown to Kibbles'n'bits."

Gillian shook her head, although she knew he had a point. She just didn't like the idea of Cal standing a foot away from a bomb with a pair of cutters trying to diffuse it. Because she knew that he would be stupid and brave enough to take that task upon himself. "I don't know, Cal." He abruptly bent over and let out another cough, which continued for a few long seconds and left him slightly dizzy. "Are you ok?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

Cal waved her off. "Yeah, just a bit under the weather. An' don't change the subject."

"I'm not. You look awful…"

"Yeah, I feel it too," he sighed. Loker quickly stood from his chair and rolled it over beside Cal, who gratefully took it. He nodded to Loker as thanks.

"You need anything?" Loker asked.

"Nah, we need to focus on this." Just then, the lab door beeped as Torres walked in and Cal looked to her. "How is everyone?"

"Freaked," she answered bluntly, "but dealing. It's Heidi, Davidson, Shelia, and Tim."

Cal nodded, and then paused. "Who's Tim?"

"Tim Smith. The new intern, you know?"

"…Oh. Right. Where's Reynolds?"

"On the phone with his boss…" she trailed off as Cal gave her a look. "His _other _boss."

"Right. Well that's try and figure out where the hell this bomb could be."

Loker shook his head. "How the heck could somebody smuggle a bomb in here?"

"And _why_?" Torres pointed out obviously. "I mean, I know we piss people off with what we do but…damn. Really?"

"I'm hopin' we'll find that out when these bastards call back…" Cal muttered, holding back another cough and avoiding the pitiful gaze from Gillian. He stood from the chair and began to walk towards the door. "You guys carry on, I'll be right back."

Sure enough, as soon as he made it to the hallway, Foster was by his side, walking with him as he headed towards the break room. "Cal, what's wrong? Really."

"Nothing, Foster. Just feelin' a bit like crap," Cal said as he tried to brush her off. When he entered the break room, he went for the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of green tea. "Bit of a cold, probably," he said with a false smile as he chugged the tea, "'Tis the season, right?" She nodded and looked to the floor, staring at her heels for a moment. "Now it's my turn," Cal said slowly as he took a step closer to her, "You alright?"

Gillian nodded her head at first, and then quickly changed it to a shake. "No," she whispered as she raised a hand to her mouth in worry. "No I'm really not."

Cal capped the drink and set it on the table next to him and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, look at me."

She did, her eyes shining a bit with unshed tears.

Cal mustered up his most assuring voice that he could. "Everything's going to be alright, you hear?" When she said nothing and averted her eyes to the floor again, he sighed. "Gill, I promise. We'll get this sorted out." He didn't realize it, but his shoulder shrugged just a fraction of an inch and Foster caught it, making her chin quiver just a bit. He didn't believe a word he was saying. He was just as scared as she was, though he wasn't showing it on his unusually pale face.

Now that she was looking at his face, she saw his forehead shining just a bit and she reached a soft hand to it. "You're hot."

Cal smiled for the first time in a day and a half. "Yeah, you think so?" he said in a slick voice.

Gillian returned the smile along with a giggle for a moment, then grew serious again. "No, I mean, you're sweating. I think you might have a fev-…"

"Bollocks," he murmured as he gave her a warning look, "you're changing the subject again."

Before she could speak again, he pulled her into a quick hug, wanting to make her feel safe, even if it was just for a second. "As I was saying. We're going to be fine, luv."

The two stood there in embrace for a minute, enjoying their temporary bliss. And then, as usual and on cue, there was a tap on the glass from outside. It was Heidi, looking rather uneasy. "Dr. Foster?" she asked softly.

Gillian broke away quickly and turned. "Yes?"

"May I have a word?"

"Of course," she replied in a strong voice, not the fretful Gillian that was standing there a moment ago. She cast a look at Cal as she walked towards their secretary. "I'll deal with you later," she said with a smirk, referring to his infirmity.

Cal shoved his hand in his pockets and raised his eyebrows innocently. "Dunno what you mean, Foster," he called as she turned the corner and walked down the hall with Heidi. As soon as she was gone, Cal quickly sat in one of the chairs, letting out a quick wheeze. Indeed, he knew very well he was sick. Every limb in his body ached as if he had just run a marathon and felt slightly dizzy still. He groped for the tea, having a wish that its herbs would miraculously cure him as he chugged half of it down.

He could only hope, anyway. In fact, it was the only hopeful thought he could think of at the moment.

* * *

_Review? Should I keep going or no? Up to you, luvs. _


	3. Blasted Phone Calls

_Holey moley! Thanks for all the fantastic reviews, everyone!! And I'm extremely proud of those who picked up on the Tim Smith bit...glad to know I'm not the only die-hard Roth fan out there, haha. I really appreciate it though, the reviews, I wasn't expecting all that! Still trying to work out all the bugs in this chapter, I hope it works out, but I enjoyed writing it and I hope you enjoy reading it. _

**3. Blasted Phone Calls**

The door of the viewing lab slammed open as Cal walked in with a firm look on his face. Everyone looked up, ready to hear him bark out an order, but instead, he let out a rather whimpy sounding sneeze. "Blast it," he muttered, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "Right," he looked at Reynolds, "So, when are we going to hear from these creeps, eh?"

Reynolds looked at his cell phone, which hadn't left his hand all morning. "FBI is trying to get a trace on the caller, but no such luck. No voice identification…nothing. We're completely in the dark here, Cal."

Lightman licked his lips. "Lovely."

"But," Reynolds started, "they are going to try and send in a team to analyze the building, bring in some optical chemical sensors to figure out what type of bomb we're dealing with and whether they can do anything about it."

"Well they had better be pretty bloody careful, I don't want to risk pissing off whoever is watching us and 'ave them set it off early, yeah?" Cal said as he tilted his head to the side.

"Trust me, they know what they're doing."

"About bloody time they started doing _something_ though." Cal paused to look around at Torres and Loker, who were doing absolutely nothing. "Why aren't you two working?"

Loker's eyes widened in confusion. "Um…like what?"

Cal waved his hand at the computers. "Looking at our cameras to see who might have brought this in. You know, if some one's been bringin' in big giant boxes of TNT and whatnot."

Loker raised an eyebrow.

"Bloody hell, you know what I mean, Loker. Check over the last few days of our security cameras and see if anything suspicious has been goin' on 'round here."

Torres had already spun around in her swivel chair and began typing away at the computer. "On it."

"Because I refuse to just sit around twiddling our thumbs doing _nothing _to help ourselves here." Lightman shot a quick look to Reynolds and waved his hand at him. "No offense to your department, Ben."

"Not at all…" Reynolds said unconvincingly.

Satisfied, Lightman let out a low sigh and rubbed the back of his aching neck. Everything in his body seemed to be throbbing, including his head, which made it difficult to think, which was aggravating since he _had _to be on his toes in this situation. However, the only thing he could think about was to just…relax. _Yeah right, like I ever get to do that these days. _

Reynolds had taken notice to the sickly looking Cal and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Cal, look we got this under control here. You should go lie down for a while," he said quietly and reassuringly.

"What? No, I'm fine-…"

Just then, Ben's cell phone began to ring. He held up a finger and walked away as he answered it. "Yeah, Reynolds here." He paused as he listened, then quickly turned to Cal. "Yeah, he's here. …Yes. Patch it through." He snapped the mobile shut and flew to the desk where the phone was. "It's our guy, he's calling for you. FBI is putting him through."

Cal quickly pushed aside all of his thoughts from before and strutted over to the phone, ready to answer. He pointed a quick finger to Loker. "Go get Foster," he demanded. The phone beeped and Cal quickly picked it up and pressed a button to put it on speaker. "Hello?" he answered with a casual mock tone.

"Cal Lightman," the voice said flatly.

"Who is this?"

"I'm pleased to see that you are taking this threat seriously," said the voice. Cal listened intently, trying to see if he recognized it at all. It was different from the original voice of the caller before, but Cal couldn't put a pin on it.

"Yeah well, bomb in the building is a pretty big deal, joke or not," Lightman replied smoothly. He didn't want to give away the fact that he was both pissed as hell and a bit nervous. "What is it that you want from us exactly?"

The voice chuckled softly, showing emotion for the first time during the conversation. As it did, Loker had returned with Foster, who was looking rather inquisitive. "What's going on?" she asked.

"Ah, is that Dr. Foster I hear with you?"

Cal paused, furrowing his eyebrows. "How do you know Foster?"

"I know quite a lot about you and your team, Dr. Lightman. I can only assume that they are all in the room with you as we are speaking: Mr. Loker, Agent Reynolds, and your newest addition, Miss Torres." Cal's eyes had flicked to each person as the voice listed them off. "Am I assuming correctly?"

Cal licked his lips as he thought for a second. "What do you want from us Mister…ah, I didn't catch your name?"

The voice chuckled again. "Nice try. You'll find out in due time, Lightman. But since we unfortunately had to go through the FBI to get your attention properly, I'm afraid we'll have to arrange some other way to communicate, without them listening in. I do not want any authorities involved in our dealings."

"Right, fair enough," Cal replied, watching Reynolds groan in annoyance out of the corner of his eye. "Why don'tchya just swing on by and we'll chat it out, eh?"

"Again, nice try. As soon as we come up with a way, we'll talk again. Until then..." the voice paused for dramatic effect, "you and your gang just sit back and relax." Cal could hear the tone change in his voice. The bastard was grinning from ear to ear and he could hear it. Foster cast an uneasy look at him, hearing it as well. _Click. _

Lightman slammed the phone on the receiver and heaved a sigh, which turned into a horrible coughing fit. When he was finished, he glared around the room. "Well, that was helpful."

"Not really," Loker mumbled, pointing out the obvious as usual. And as usual, the comment went ignored.

Cal shoved a finger in Reynolds's direction. "You call your people and tell them to butt outta this for the time being, you hear?"

"Lightman, you know I can't do that."

"Why not?" Cal half shouted. "This guy isn't going to talk to us until he knows they aren't all over us. And the sooner we talk, the sooner we get out of this before he decides to blow us to bits."

Foster stepped forward. "Ben, he's right. We need to talk to this guy. Alone. Just…see what you can get worked out for us, please?"

Reynolds sighed and crossed his arms. "You two aren't seriously thinking about actually _dealing _with this guy."

"No, but we at least need to know what he wants so we can figure a way out of this. If he doesn't get to talk to us like he wants, he might just get bored and…" Gillian trailed off, avoiding the mention of death and destruction to them all.

Ben shook his head as he began dialing on his mobile. "You guys are nuts," he mumbled to himself, walking away from the group.

For a moment, there was silence as everyone stared blankly ahead, unsure of how to react. Cal was the first to snap out of his dreadful thoughts and snapped his fingers. "Oi, you two," he barked at Torres and Loker, "back to work." Then he darted past Gillian and bee-lined for the exit, wanting to avoid any comments of concern for his damned health.

As soon as Cal was outside of the lab, he faltered for a second, deciding that the quick action of darting was a bad idea. He slowed his pace and reached his hand out for the wall for support as his balance seemed to wane. _Fuckin' hell, _he thought angrily, _of all the days…_he stopped thinking when he hacked out another cough. Following that, he took a deep breath, and continued his path to his office.

Lightman stumbled through the door and reached a wavering hand out to the wall for the light switch, turning off the overhead lights. He groaned a bit, seeing it made no difference as the early afternoon sun continued to light his office. Quickly as he could with his staggering, he stormed to the window and tugged on the cord to draw the blinds, giving him the sweet relief of darkness in his office. He let out a content sigh as he dropped down into his chair and laid his head down into his arms. "Thas' better…" Cal slurred to himself.

He figured he maybe got about two minutes of peace before his ears perked up to the sound of his door creaking open. "Cal?" called a quiet voice.

He moaned and refused to lift his head from its somewhat comfortable position. "Yes, Gillian?"

"I'm sorry, were you sleeping?"

Cal forced his head up to look at her dark form in the doorway. "No. What is it?" He motioned for her to come into the office.

"Sorry, I wouldn't bother you, but…"

"Spit it out, Foster."

"Emily's on the phone for you."

_Bollocks._ "Ah…right."

Foster took a seat opposite from his desk as he reached for his phone. "Did you tell her anything?"

"No, not yet."

"Right, good. Let's keep it that way for the moment."

Foster shook her head. "I was afraid you'd say that."

"She doesn't need to be worrying about this crap," Lightman said softly, then raised a finger to his lips, hushing Gillian as he picked up the receiver. "He-…" he stopped to clear his throat and let out a quick cough, then mustered up as much cheerfulness as he could. "Hey, Em."

"Dad," came the fearful tone of his daughter, "What the heck is going on?"

Cal paused and furrowed his eyebrows. "Wha'dya mean, luv?"

"Don't pull that crap on me, Dad. What's going on there at the office?" Emily demanded, sounding a bit like her mother, which made Cal cringe slightly.

"Nothing," he lied, eyeing Foster. "Just a normal day here…"

"Stop treating me like a child, Dad. It's all over the news that your whole block as been shut down."

"Er, hang on a second, luv," he replied quickly and hit the mute button on the phone. He then reached for the remote on the desk and turned the news onto his giant screen along the wall. "Apparently," he hissed to Foster, "we're all over the bloody news."

Indeed, the screen showed an overhead view being shot from a helicopter, a scene from the block surrounding The Lightman Group. "Lovely," Cal sighed as he got back on the phone with Emily. "Yeah, about that…"

"And don't you dare try lying to me or I will come down there myself-…"

"Em, luv, it's alright, really. Just a bit of a…bomb scare…"

"_What_?"

"Just a scare, though, I promise. Everything's going to be fine. We're getting it all sorted out right now."

"You're lying," Emily said, her voice cracking.

Cal sighed, "I'm going to be fine. You don't need to worry about me. You focus on…whatever it is you think about during the day. But no thinkin' about boys, you hear?"

"Dad…"

"And don't come anywhere near here. Just…in case." There was a silence on the phone for a moment as he listened to his daughter sniff. "Where's your mum at today?"

"Chicago on business,"

"Go figure. Where are you at now?"

"School…" Emily answered dully.

Cal flicked his wrist up to look at his watch, the time only being just past noon. "Right, good girl. Go straight home after words, alright?"

"Yeah," came her short reply. He could tell she was scared still.

"Em, I love you."

"Love you too, Dad. Keep me updated, please?"

"Will do," he finished with a nod and hung up the phone, and stifled back a cough. "Well that went _well_," Cal sighed, letting his face drop into his palms. He dug the heel of his hand into his eyes, trying to massage the pain out of his head.

"Are you okay?"

"No, Foster, I'm bloody not," he sneered, looking up. "How do you think I am? I feel like complete shit, my daughter is freaking out, and there's a maniac out there ready to destroy our company, us along with it. No, I'm _not_ bloody _okay_!" Cal instantly regretted having snapped on Gillian like that as he watched her gaze quickly shift to the floor. She was only concerned for her partner and now…oh, but his throbbing head. He wasn't thinking clearly. "I'm sorry, Gill…"

Gillian stiffly nodded her head, lips tight. "I'll let you know if we get anywhere with this mess," she said quietly as she stood from her chair. "And here," she reached into the pockets of her slacks and pulled out a handful of cough drops, "got these from Heidi's desk up front for you." She let them drop onto his desk and walked out.

Cal let a very small smile play at the corner of his mouth as he watched her close the door behind her, then picked up one of the cough drops. _She's too bloody good to me,_ he thought as he popped one into his mouth.

* * *

_Ah, those two cutie-pies. Yes, more will come of them...that is...if you keep up those lovely reviews :) lol. Thanks again, everyone. More to come?_


	4. Pacing and Pudding

_an: sorry this is a short update, i wrote it while at breakfast this morning. mmm...i tell you what, panera bread is an excellent place for writing! anyway, here's a bit...more to come hopefully later today/tonight/early tomorrow, depending on how things go. thank you again so so much for the wonderful reviews, you guys are fantastic! :) _

* * *

**4. Pacing and Pudding**

It was an extremely rare occasion when someone would see Gillian Foster pace around. Loker looked up from his computer to watch her as she passed by the doorway to the lab for the fourteenth time. He and Torres exchanged glances and then turned back to their computers.

"Lightman," they both muttered, knowing that Foster only paced when she had just had a tiff with the man.

"What do you think is up with him?" Torres asked.

"Don't know, don't care," Loker answered simply as he continued to scroll through footage.

"…found anything yet?"

"Nope."

"Great."

And the two fell back into silence as they worked.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Gillian passed the door again. She only paced when she knew she should be doing something, yet couldn't. She could be helping Torres and Loker…she could be absurd and go looking for the possible location of the bomb…she could be doing some much needed paper work. _Paperwork? Who does paperwork in a situation like _this_? _she thought. She'd be better off simply pacing the halls, waiting for Reynolds to fill her in…or for _something_ to happen.

The pacing didn't last much longer when Gillian decided that the shoes she was wearing was not good for continuous walking. Instead, she steered herself to the break room, where she was quite sure she had stashed some pudding.

When she entered, she was greeted by two of their remaining faculty, Harry Davidson and Shelia Marks. They sat closely together in the corner by the window, each with a cup of coffee and talking quietly to each other. Shelia smiled gently and waved to Gillian with delicate fingers and Gillian smiled back, heading straight for the fridge. She thought about joining them but decided not too when she observed how closely Davidson was leaning in to the table to be near Shelia. She could tell that they liked each other a bit.

Ah, young office love. Gillian knew it all too well, of course, because that's how she found herself positioned whenever …someone…was sitting across from her. She kept her grin to herself as she reached into the fridge for one of the two chocolate puddings. Instead of staying in there to eat it, she decided to take it to her office, where she could maybe relax and find some peace for a moment. Of course, she couldn't contain herself and her chocolate and she started to eat it on her way there.

Gillian could only think of what Cal would possibly say at this moment, if he were in a better mood. _Who eats _pudding_ when their on the verge of annihilation? That's hardly what I would call a last meal…_

She slowed her pace just as she passed Cal's office, having a fleeting thought of popping back in to see how he was doing. Instead, she thought better of it, not wanting to piss him off even more and carried on to her own office.

* * *

A while later, Gillian indeed found herself buried knee-deep in paperwork that she had been meaning to catch up on in her office. She kept the blinds behind her drawn, not wanting to see the occasional helicopter swoop by, no doubt reporting on their situation. She had no idea what all they could be reporting about though, since she worked here and _she _didn't even know what was going on completely.

There was a soft knock on the door and a head popped in. "Foster?"

"Yes Ria, come in."

Torres opened the door all the way, but didn't enter the office, instead just leaning against the doorframe. "Loker thinks he found something on the footage that you might want to see."

Gillian scooted her chair back and stood. "Great. Have you gotten Lightman yet?"

The young woman cast a quick glance at the floor. "Well, no. Uh, I went to his office and he was sleeping. He should see this…" she paused and picked at her fingernail for a second, "…but maybe you should go and wake him. He'll bite my head off if I do and…"

Gillian gave her a sympathetic smile and held up a hand to stop her. "It's alright, I'll take care of him."

Torres nodded her head curtly and left, heading back to the lab.

"Well, this should be fun…"

When Foster got to Lightman's office door, she knocked loudly to see if he would maybe answer to that. Of course, no, so she let herself into the dark office. "Lightman?" she called softly. Gillian gave her eyes a moment to adjust before walking in slowly. When they did, she could see his still form hunched over his desk, one arm curled up under his head as a pillow, the other arm stretched out away from him, resting on a heap of unfinished paperwork. As Gillian observed it…it was stack of papers that he said he had already completed working on…_Liar_, she thought as she rolled her eyes.

Gillian reached out over the desk and shook his hand a bit. "Hey, Cal, wake up," she said gently. He still didn't wake. She sighed and placed her hand on the top of his head, which was all that was visible from her view, ruffling her hand through his hair to try to stir him, which she knew he hated his hair being touched. _Not that it ever matters, it's always such a mess._ "Caaaal…" she stopped, worry creeping in, and listened. He was breathing, yes, she heard that…but he was also wheezing as he breathed. _Not good. _

Foster swiftly trotted around the desk to his side, where she could now see his face, and crouched down to his level, hand on his shoulder. "Cal," she said with much more volume now as she shook his shoulder, "wake up, come on." She reached a hand out to his forehead, which was clammy and hot. "Cal!"

"…eh?"

A quick breath of relieve escaped her lips. "Geez…you're burning up, Cal…"

He hastily sat up, anxious to escape the tender hands of Florence bloody Nightingale. "What? Nah, I'm good."

Gillian shook her head, not even caring if he would get angry with her now. "No, you're not-…"

"Did you need something, Foster?" Cal asked flatly as he carefully nudged his chair back an inch or two.

"Cal…"

"Foster," he warned, a glint of glower in his eye.

She heaved a sigh. "Loker and Torres have something for you."

"Great," he said hurriedly as he leapt from his chair, leaving Gillian still crouched in her worried position by his desk. _Well, that went better than expected...I think_, she thought grimly as she stood to follow him to the lab.

* * *

_again, sorry its short. tell me that it's ok by uh...reviewing for me? :D more to come. by the way, forgive me if my chapter names suck...i normally don't title my chapters i just stick with 1, 2, blah...but for some reason i decided to name the first few...now i'm regretting it...so they suck. anyway. forgive me, ignore them, and just enjoy the story under them. lol. :) merry christmas, everyone! _


	5. Hot Damn

_Sorry for the wait...been busy working and getting my Christmas shopping out of the way. Alright all you angst-fans out there...you'll enjoy this bit. _**

* * *

**

**5. Hot Damn**

By the time Lightman reached the lab, he had given up use usual sense of authority, too tired to even try. "Right, what have you got?" he mumbled quietly as he rubbed his eye.

Loker spun his chair around to face him and leaned back. "Well, it's not so much that we have something…rather we're _missing _something."

Cal tilted his head in confusion. "Eh?"

Torres typed quickly on her desktop as she explained, "It looks like somebody tampered with our security footage from two days ago," she paused as she pulled up a video on the big screen. "Whoever did this did a fair job covering their tracks…except…"Cal watched the screen. It was footage from the front entrance of The Lightman Group. There was nothing except for the empty doorway…until he saw a quick flash at the corner of the screen, and then disappeared. "There, did you see that?"

"Barely. Slow it down," Cal ordered as he stepped closer to the screen. As he did, he heard Foster enter from behind him. Again, he watched the screen. Just at the edge, it looked like someone was entering the view of the camera, all he could see was the swinging on an arm as a person walked and the top of their head, and then the screen flickered for just a millisecond as it disappeared. "Bloody hell…"

"Yep," Loker commented, "Someone's been tampering with our security-…"

Lightman cut him off. "Yeah, I see that."

"So, like we said. We've got something…but still nothing."

"When was this from?" Gillian asked from the back.

"Two days ago," Torres replied. "Whoever did this was good…they just slipped up a bit there. But we've gone over the rest of the security for that day and there's nothing."

"What do you mean _nothing_?" Lightman growled.

"I mean nothing but footage of empty hallways."

"But two days ago…that was Monday and it was busy as hell 'round here."

"Yeah, that's how we caught it." Torres hit another key on the keyboard and pulled up the more footage. A quick flash, and then nothing but empty hallways.

"Well that's just brilliant." Lightman paused and turned to his two young colleagues. "How the hell did someone do this without us knowing?"

Loker shrugged. "Dunno. Not very many people around here have that sort of access."

Cal closed his eyes, bowed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to clear his head. "Uh…" he began quietly, "…right, well…just keep going through things, see what you can get figured out, alright?" He felt incredibly stupid, not knowing what to do with this new information, but…_Blimey, this damn headache…_the incessant pounding in his brain wouldn't let him do much of anything. "I'll be back in my office if you lot need anything…" he murmured, turning for the door, "…I'll see what I can come up with from there."

As he turned eyes only half open, he found himself face to face with none other than Gillian Foster, who was examining him with stern, blue eyes, arms crossed. "Cal."

"Outta my way, Foster," he slurred.

She pursed her lips and stepped aside to let him pass, but was on his heels as he shuffled from the lab. When the two had reached the hallway, she closed the lab door behind her and marched up to his side, grabbing him by the arm to stop him. "Cal, stop," she pleaded.

"Foster, just leave me alone, alright?"

"Not until you talk to me. You're not well, I see that, but let me help you."

He turned quickly, too quickly in fact, making the hall sway around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to regain his focus on his partner before him. "We're in a pinch here, Foster, we've got more important things to worry about than me having the sniffles."

"Cal, this is more than _the sniffles. _Look at you, you can barely stand straight," she said, her voice dripping with concern. She noticed that he was sweating and looking even paler than before.

He hadn't noticed that he was now leaning against the wall for support. "Look, I'm obviously not on top of things at the moment, but I need you to be. _Your_ focus needs to be on helping us get out of this mess rather than me." Of course that was a partial lie, because Cal would love nothing more than for Gillian's focus to be him and only him. But he wasn't about to voice that right then and there to her.

Although, those seemed to be her thoughts as well. "My focus is on this problem. But that doesn't mean I can't help you as well."

Cal shivered and shook his head, which, again, was a horrible thing to do to his aching mind. "I don't," he slurred as he pushed by her to head for his office, "need you… smothering."

Gillian rolled her eyes and turned to follow him. "I'm not _smothering_, Cal, I'm simply just trying to help. You know, it's what human beings do for each other."

"Yeah, 'cause it's either _that_ or they're trying to blow you up."

"Well it's a good thing I'm a decent person then."

However, the stubborn Brit carried on his own way, with Foster close on his heels. "It's useless, you know," he called over his shoulder quietly, "I'm perfectly fi-…uhm…perfect..ly…" Cal trailed off, losing this thought. In fact, he was beginning to lose a lot of things at that moment… thought, balance, muscle control…before he knew it, he felt himself stagger. His vision became blurred and all sound started to fade away. "Woah…" he muttered as he felt himself go sideways.

"…Cal?"

With incredible speed, Gillian rushed to his side to catch him as he fell. She sunk to her knees with him in her arms, not quite able to hold his deadweight. "Cal," she said his name loudly, but he wasn't responding to her voice. His eyes were closed and eyebrows drawn together in pain as he murmured something incoherent. She tapped the side of his face with her free hand to stir him, but got nothing. Gillian's mind was racing, heart pounding furiously, almost to the verge of panicking. But she had to collect herself in order to help him. She took a deep, shaky breath…

Foster looked up at the sound of footsteps up the hall. It was Reynolds, just coming from the conference room and heading toward the lab, texting on his phone. "Ben!" she cried out. He looked up from the mobile and started to jog towards her.

"What happened?" he asked as he crouched down beside her, looking at the man in her arms. A mixture of confusion and concern were etched on his face.

Gillian shook her head as she shifted her gaze back down on Cal. "I don't know..." she stammered, "We were talking and he tried walking away and he just collapsed."

Cal's eyebrows twitched a bit as he muttered something again, so quietly it was more of a whisper. Reynolds reached his hand out to shoulder and shook it. "Lightman!" he half shouted, "can you hear me? C'mon, snap out of it!" Again, no response. "What's with the muttering?" he wondered aloud.

Gillian said nothing and simply shook her head. She felt him shiver slightly in her arms and she pressed her hand against his unshaven and scratchy face. "He's burning up," she said, promptly looking up at Reynolds. "Help me get him to his study."

"Yeah, ok," Reynolds agreed quickly and repositioned himself on the other side of Gillian. "Here, I'll take this end and you grab his feet."

Foster gently handed over Cal's trembling form to Reynolds, who slid his hands underneath Cal's arms. Gillian reached for his legs and they both swiftly moved towards Lightman's office. She led the way, carefully treading backwards, and reached over to slide the door open to his dimly lit study. Warily, they inched by the stepladder, careful not to bump the man into it, and moved to the back where a small couch was. Reynolds swung around to ease him onto the sofa, then Gillian moved to prop his feet up on the other end.

"Go get a cold rag and the first aid-…" Gillian started, but before she even finished, Reynolds had jogged out of the room. From behind her, Cal coughed. She turned back to Cal, dropped to her knees beside him and placed her hand on his sweaty forehead again. His fever had gone from bad to worse quicker than she thought it would. She moved her hand from his head to his chest, which quivered a bit under her, and shook him gently. "Cal," she called, "Cal if you can hear me I need you to open your eyes, alright?...Cal?"

At last, his head turned just a fraction of an inch towards her. "…Foster…" came a hoarse whisper. A quick cough soon followed.

A quick sigh of relive washed over her. "Yes, now open your eyes."

Slowly, oh so very slowly, he obeyed, his eyes peeping open just slightly. "..s'goin' on?"

"You collapsed," she told him calmly as her worried blue eyes scanned over his pallid face, "and you have a really bad fever-…"

"Hey," It was Reynolds, returning into the room in a flurried motion. "Oh good, he's awake…"

"Only just," Gillian muttered, taking an icy rag from his hand, then pointed to the first aid kit in his other hand, "can you get the ibuprofen out of there?"

As he did, Foster tenderly placed the rag on Cal's forehead, making him flinch. "…bloody cold…" he slurred, cringing.

"Yeah, and you're melting, so hold still," Gillian retorted as she dabbed it across his face. She felt Ben tapped her shoulder and handed her two pills and a bottle of water. "Alright, Cal, you need to sit up and take these," she instructed.

His head shook slightly. "Can't…"

"Yes, you can, and you will. We need to lower your fever…now…" she reached her arm under his neck and helped him sit up a bit, "…c'mon…that's it." With the tenderness of a mother, she tipped her cupped hand in front of his mouth, letting the two little red pills roll in, and then brought the bottle to his lips. He swallowed a bit of water gratefully, then when Foster was satisfied, she lowered his head back to the couch.

Reynolds stood behind her looking on intently, arms crossed, impressed with her skill of handling the situation. "Let's hope that helps," he commented quietly.

Foster turned to look up at him and nodded. "It should," she sighed, "but I don't know for sure. He needs a doctor…"

Reynolds shook his head solemnly. "Yeah, well, that's not really an option now, is it?"

Frustrated, Gillian whipped her head away from him and bit her lip, setting her gaze back on Lightman, whose eyes were closed again, face completely still. "Cal?" she tried, but he was fully unconscious now. She removed the rag from his face and lifted her other hand up to push back a bit of hair drooping on his forehead.

Ben stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, I'll be back in a few minutes. You gonna be ok if you stay here with him?"

"Yeah, go, I got it under control," Gillian said with a curt nod as Ben turned and left again. She wasn't completely _ok_, due to the fact that she was near sick with worry, but she'd manage. She would have to. _Oh, Cal…_she thought grimly as she pressed the cold rag back on his hot forehead.

* * *

_Thank you again so so SO much for the fantastic reviews, they are glorious, as are you all. And thanks to lovethemajor for the bits of advice! I will try to update soon, but no promises since Christmas time is starting to weigh down on me. I will try to update before, but if I don't see you guys before then, MERRY CHRISTMAS! _


	6. Ridiculous Luck

_an: Pardon my breif hiatus. Holidays were a killer. However, I have returned with brand new ideas! Sure, it only took me two weeks to have a stroke of genius, but by george it happened. This chapter is a bit slow, yes, but I'm in the process of setting up the rest of the plot. Enjoy and Happy New Year. _

* * *

**6. Ridiculous Luck**

Ben Reynolds paced furiously up and down the hall just outside of Lightman's study as he spoke on his cell phone with the FBI. He had quickly informed them of Lightman's current condition, hoping that there would be something they could do from the outside to speed up the process of getting them the hell out of that building for help. Or perhaps even getting help into the building.

So far, his luck was looking grim.

He turned on his heel to begin his pace back down the hall and when he did, he saw Torres stick her head out from the lab with an inquiring look. She opened her mouth to ask something, but Reynolds waved her off and pointed to his phone. She nodded and ducked back inside. Ben didn't think now would be the best of times to inform her and Loker of Lightman's state. They needed to stay focused on the situation at hand. Not that there was much they could do anyway.

* * *

Meanwhile, inside the lab, Torres seated herself in one of the swivel chairs next to Loker and puffed a sigh. He cast a questioning look to his coworker. "What's going on out there?"

She shook her head without looking at him. "No clue. Reynolds is anxious about something."

Loker snorted and reclined in his chair, swinging his feet up onto the desk. "You mean something other than the fact that we could blow up at any second?" From the corner of his eye, he saw Torres swing her head around and then he suddenly felt a glare piercing into the side of his face. "Sorry."

"Yeah, something else, I think."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a moment before Loker cleared his throat. "Well, this sucks."

"Yup."

"What if this guy is bluffing?"

"Would you really like to test that theory?" Torres asked with disdain.

"…Not really," Loker mumbled.

"_That's _what I thought."

"Well we've been through all of this footage and so far we've got nothing to show for it."

"Besides that one blip."

Loker nodded. "Yes, that."

"But you're right…"

"…_nothing." _

"Wonderful."

"And there's nothing we can do-"

"-For now."

"Right, yeah."

Again, another painful silence stretched between the pair.

"…Want to play cards?" Torres threw another glare at him and heaved a rather huge sigh. "_What_?"

"You're ridiculous."

"Yes, I am."

* * *

Foster had been hastily rummaging through the first aid pack when she heard the clap of a cell phone shutting from behind her, signaling that Reynolds had entered the room again. "How's he doin'?" he asked solemnly.

"Out for the count for now," she replied, still digging through the bag. Three boxes of bandages, some itch cream and an empty pill bottle later, she found what she had been searching for; a thermometer. She wiped it off with a bit of water and a Kleenex. Gently, she eased it past Cal's lips and then turned to Reynolds. "Was that the FBI?"

"Yeah, they're going to try and see what they can do, sneak a doctor into this place or something."

"Is that safe?"

"No, which probably means they aren't going to do it. Just said it to shut me up for a while I guess."

"Great," she muttered.

"And we still haven't heard from our mystery guy either."

"Well he needs to hurry up and just tell us what he wants so we can get this over with and get Cal out of here," Gillian huffed, turning back to her patient. She waited another moment or two, and then removed the thermometer from his mouth to inspect it. "102.8 degrees," she read quietly.

"Damn," Reynolds remarked.

Foster said nothing in reply. Instead, she replaced a newly cooled cloth back on the Englishman's forehead, trying to soak up as much heat as possible from his body. "Are you alright?" Reynolds asked tenderly after a moment. Gillian merely scoffed. "Yeah, thought so. Um, look, do you need anything? Tea or something?"

She waited before answering, and simply nodded her head, not really feeling like speaking at the moment.

"Right, ok. Tea it is. I'm gonna go check on Torres and Loker and then I'll come back with some, ok?" He took her silence as an '_ok_' and turned to leave.

* * *

"What the hell is this?" barked a voice. Minus the British accent, the authority of it was uncanny to Lightman's.

Loker flinched, startled, and quickly swept a pile of cards from his desk (which had looked suspiciously like the form of solitaire) and sent them scattering to the floor. "Nothing," was his hasty reply.

Reynolds crossed his arms and shook his head in disapproval. "You're ridiculous, you know that?"

"That's what I told him," said Torres, who was sitting in the corner working on three computers at once. One screen was old footage from the last few days, the other screen had current footage of the conference room where their coworkers sat, and the last was showing the news channel.

"You two have anything new for me?"

The pair of them shook their heads dully.

"Well great." Reynolds turned to leave but Torres stopped him.

"Hey, is there something we should know about?"

"What? No, why?" he answered too quickly.

"You're obviously hiding something."

"No, I'm not."

Loker almost let out a laugh. "Ben, you've been working with us for almost a year. We are _deception experts._ We know you're lying."

The agent paused to think for a second, and then turned back for the door. "Shut up and go back to your friggin' cards, man."

* * *

Ben had been frustrated, though not completely surprised at what he saw in the lab. It was true, there was not much any of them could do at the moment. Hell, even the bureau was doing everything they could and so far that had resulted in nothing.

He was marching down the hall, coming from the break room with a mug of steaming tea in his hand and heading back to keep Gillian company. His phone beeped and he slowed his pace down as he withdrew it from his pocket. The screen read that he had a text message from a restricted number. Already, he was suspicious, since the only people who had his mobile number were the FBI and the Lightman Group. He flipped it open to read it:

_Coming to meet you. Expect us at nightfall. Will come through back entrance. Be unarmed and do not alert the FBI. Do not attempt to trace this number, you will fail anyway. Snipers are watching, do not try _anything_._

Reynolds snapped his phone shut forcefully, fuming. "Goddamn it…" he muttered, speeding his walk up again to go inform Gillian.

* * *

_an: mwahahaaa, yessss, finally setting up the baddie for this one! I'm so excited for what I've got cookin' up for you all, I truely hope you enjoy what's coming. And I promise, they will come much faster now that I know what I'm doing. Heck, I'm already planning my sequel for this, and the sequel for that. Oh yes, this story is going to change our dear character's lives forever. Thank the muses! _


	7. PreGame

_Thanks for the gorgeous reviews, everyone, you guys are brilliant. Had to go through one or two drafts for this one, so I hope this was the right fix for you all. Enjoy. _

* * *

**7. Pre-Game**

When Reynolds brought the news to Foster that their sort-of-captors were going to be paying them a visit that evening, she was less than thrilled.

"Perfect," she hissed as she set her cup of tea down, "just perfect timing on their half."

"They're going to want to talk to Lightman, you know."

Gillian nodded her head and cast a grave look at her friend, who was still unconscious on the couch. "Well he's in no condition to be dealing with terrorists right now at the moment."

"Yeah, I see that Gillian, but what are we supposed to tell these guys? Obviously this whole thing is against Cal-…"

"They're just going to have to deal with _me_, is what it's going to be."

Reynolds raised his eyebrows pursed his lips together as he thought inwardly to himself, _Yeah, and me as well_.

"What time is it now?" Foster inquired.

Reynolds checked his watch and told her it was nearing three in the afternoon. She merely nodded. "Is there anything else we can do for him right now?"

Foster didn't answer right away, just kept dabbing the cold cloth around Cal's face. "Try and keep his temperature down," she answered, "before any damage is done. Where did you say they were going to come in at?"

"The back, probably from the parking garage entrance. Once it's dark, they won't be noticed as much by anyone watching the building-…"

"The police and FBI?"

"Right. I can only hope they will be watching, but I can't exactly tip them off now."

"Do you really think there are snipers out there?" Gillian asked as a chill went down her spine. She cast a hasty glance to the window, which now had the blinds drawn.

"More than likely. If they managed to smuggle a bomb in here I'm sure they could manage that."

"Okay, well I want you to go and make sure everyone is away from any windows, just to be safe. And fill Loker and Torres in. I want them to keep an eye on the outside cameras now, just in case they see anyone try to come in early. I want to know when they do come so we're prepared."

Reynolds gave her a firm nod and turned to leave. Gillian looked back down to Lightman, who was finally starting to look somewhat peaceful as he rested. She hated that he was so sick…now of all times, particularly. But any time that Cal was ill, it tore her up, especially since she could very rarely be there to help him through it. While he was married, he had Zoe. After the divorce, she had been there as much as possible to help him through any crisis he had run across, but she would much rather had been there all the time for him. For some reason, the words _Through sickness and in health,_ kept running through her mind as she dabbed the rag around his face. Gillian felt as if they had somehow already made that vow to each other, silently, because no matter what the situation, they were always around for each other.

She lifted the cloth, which was now very warm, and scooted over to a bowl of icy water that Reynolds had brought in earlier. She dipped it in and rung it out, making it cold again to place back on his head. When she turned back to him, she saw his face twitch a little and a small groan soon followed. "Cal?"

"Oi, god, what a 'eadache…"

A sigh of enormous relief passed Gillian's lips. She watched as he tried to sit up, but she gently placed a hand on his shoulder and eased him back down. "Hey, hey, take it easy, you're alright," she cooed.

"'S goin' on, eh?" Cal mumbled, eyes cracking open just slightly.

"Do you remember anything?"

Cal managed to give her an incredulous look even in his horribly weakened state. "Would I be askin' you if I did?" he slurred.

A small grin tugged at Foster's lips, glad that he was being a pain in the ass again. "You have a really high fever and you passed out."

Cal lifted a hand to his head, eyes closed again and sighed. "Brilliant," he muttered as he rubbed his forehead.

Gillian took his state of consciousness as a good opportunity to get some more ibuprofen in him to help with the fever and produced two more pills and a bottle of water. "Here, take these and try to drink as much water as you can," she told him.

Very slowly, Cal inched himself up a bit in a more upright position, with the help of Foster, of course. He moaned a bit, then kicking himself mentally for doing so.

"Stop that," said Foster.

"What?"

"Shame," she replied, nodding to the expression on his face. It was more of a mixture of pain and shame, but the look had been on his features sure enough. "You have no reason to feel that way. You're sick, I understand, and no one else is going to see you like this but me." _…And Reynolds. But he doesn't need to know that._

Cal sighed as he took the pills from her hand and popped them into his mouth. "You're too good to me sometimes, Foster," he noted, then taking a swig from the water bottle. He moved to set it down on the end table next to him, but Foster reached out and forced the bottle back towards him.

"No, you need to drink more. You're dehydrated."

"Thank you, mum," he growled with a very small grin, taking another sip.

She returned the grin and stood up. "I'm going to go and see if there is any Gatorade in the kitchen, that is probably going to be better for you at the moment," she stopped as she watched the man make a face, "Oh stop it, you're not six."

"That stuff tastes like-…"

"Too bad. It's going to hydrate you better, which means you get better faster, alright?" Cal rolled his tired eyes and she took that as acceptance. "Good. Now, don't move, you shouldn't be up right now. I'll be right back."

A few minutes later, Gillian returned back to the study, two different colored bottles of Gatorade in hand. She figured if she gave him a choice of flavor, he'd be more willing to oblige. However as she walked into the room, she saw that his eyes were closed again. "Cal?" she asked. She watched as he shifted his position slightly, but didn't respond. _Just sleeping then._ She decided not to wake him, thinking it was best that he get as much rest as possible. Lord knows when the man had gotten a good night's rest. Or even a proper meal. He had been living at The Lightman Group for the last few days.

Quietly, she set the two drinks on the end table by the couch and gingerly placed the cold cloth back on his forehead, trying not to disturb him. Once it was in place, she moved to sit in the arm chair next to the couch and blew out a deep sigh. She figured she ought to close her eyes for a moment, for she knew they were going to be in for a long night.

* * *

Gillian jumped from the arm chair, very startled. It took her a moment to realize that it had been the ringing of a phone that awoke her from her nap. She rubbed her bleary eyes and looked around the room as she listened for the phone again. As she observed the room she saw that it was much dimmer now than it had been when she closed her eyes. Night was coming quickly. Again, the phone. It was coming from Cal, who was still asleep. Quickly, she fumbled over to him and reached over his torso and slid her hand into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out his phone. The ID read that it was his daughter.

"Hi, Emily," she greeted in a calm, motherly tone.

"Gillian?"

"Yes,"

"Where's Dad?"

Gillian paused before answering. As much as she wanted to comfort his daughter with the sound of his voice, she thought it would be better for Cal's health if she continued to let him sleep. Instead, she quietly tiptoed from the study and into Cal's office. "He's sort of busy right now, sweetheart-…"

"Busy? I've been trying to get a hold of him for like three hours."

Foster's eyes wandered over to Lightman's desk where the office phone rested. "Have you tried the office?"

"Yeah, I just keep getting a disconnected message or something."

"Oh," Gillian closed her eyes for a moment, realizing that their captors had finally decided to start cutting off their communications. "I see. I'm sorry, Em. He's trying to deal with the problem right now. I'll have him call you as soon as-…"

"What exactly is 'the situation'? Dad said it was just a scare and it'd be over soon."

"We're still trying to figure it out."

There was a pause and Gillian could hear Emily taking a deep breath. "Are you guys going to be ok?"

"Yes…"

"Gillian, really, I need to know."

She hesitated. "I'm not sure, Em," she whispered, immediately regretting it.

"Oh god…"

"We're doing everything that we can. And I promise, your dad is going to be ok."

"I want you to be ok too, Gillian," said Emily kindly.

Foster bowed her head as a smile inched across her face. "Thank you, sweetheart. We will be."

"'K. Have him call me as soon as he can please?"

"I promise. Where are you at right now?"

"Home," Emily replied.

"Good. I think your dad wants you to stay put, alright?" Gillian told her. As she did, she could hear someone walking into the study next door. She craned her neck to see past the doorway and saw it was Reynolds. He saw her in the office and started towards her.

"Yeah, sure,"

"Ok. I need to go now. We'll try and keep in better touch this time,"

"Alright. Bye, Gill," and with that, she hung up.

Foster tucked Cal's phone into the pocket of her slacks and waited until Reynolds was in the office before she slid the door shut behind him. "What's going on?" she asked, seeing a look of anxiety on the agent's face.

Reynolds crossed his arms as he spoke. "The power's been cut to the parking lot and basement. I think our boys are about to get here."

* * *

_Fear not! Already half way through chapter 8. Just wanted to get this bit up so you guys weren't waiting too long. Heaven forbid, a whole day! Ha. I'm soooo exciiiiiited...probably even more excited than you lot! Bwaha. _


	8. Game Time

**8. Game Time**

It did not take long to get everybody gathered into Lightman's office. Reynolds briefed everyone of the situation in a quick and vague fashion, not wanting to alarm what few people they had there. Torres had joined them, while Loker remained in the lab to keep an eye on the security feeds. Gillian poked her head in the study one last time to observe the still resting Cal, and then locked the doors behind her before joining Reynolds in the hallway.

"Ready?" he asked her.

Foster shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be for meeting a madman." Together the two of them treaded down the hall to where the stairwell to the garage was and waited just down the way from it for their captors to enter.

As if on cue, the lights were cut and the building was plunged into darkness. Gillian felt her body tense up a bit and blinked hard, trying to make her eyes adjust. Beside her, Reynolds was adjusting the back of his suit jacket to hide the gun in the back of his pants.

Up ahead, there was a noise. _Scuffling_. It sounded like one…two…three men total, coming up the stairwell. Reynolds took an instinctive step forward, putting himself in front of Gillian in a protective way. _Creaking. _The door was opening. Three pairs of flashlights shone in their faces.

"Let's see your hands," growled a husky sounding voice.

Reluctantly, Foster and Reynolds complied.

"Where is Dr. Lightman?" came another voice. Gillian's ears perked up, thinking that it sounded vaguely…familiar.

"He'll join us shortly," Reynolds answered.

"Leave it to Cal Lightman to leave his crew in a dire situation," the voice chuckled. Yes, Gillian definitely knew that voice…

The lights were lowered and the pair allowed their eyes to adjust for a moment. Foster blinked once or twice and when she opened her eyes, she gasped at who was standing before her. "Rader?"

Sure enough, it was Jack Rader, donning his usual light colored suit and a peach tie, looking as charming and evil as ever. "Hello, Gillian. Did you get my flowers?"

Foster's jaw was hanging and she was left speechless for a moment. True, she knew that he and Lightman had a not too pleasant history, but to go this far…? She thought that they simply had a professional rivalry between the old protege and the master.

Apparently not.

Reynolds quickly scanned his eyes at the men before him, making a quick assessment. Rader was being flanked by two men in all black (as cliché as it seemed), each armed with what appeared to be P-90s, which alarmed him greatly. These men meant business. Rader, in the middle, had a handgun, which he couldn't distinguish, with a small light attached to the front. _Shit, _he thought grimly, knowing that they wouldn't stand a chance at this rate. Especially if they truly were sitting on a bomb somewhere.

Finally, next to him, Gillian had stopped gaping like a fish for a moment and spoke up. "Jack…why?" She sounded truly heartbroken, which tore Reynolds up inside.

"It's all business, Gill," Rader replied smoothly as he took a step closer to her so they were mere inches apart, "Nothing personal. Not against you anyway," he added as he gently touched her chin.

Reynolds took a threatening step towards the man. The two men behind him raised their guns at Reynolds, causing both him and Foster to take a step back. "Leave her alone, Rader. What do you want?"

He smiled. "I want to speak with Dr. Lightman. I don't care what he's doing right now. Surely it can't be much more important than the lives of everyone here."

Foster hesitated before answering. "He's uh-…"

"…Right here, luv."

Everyone's heads turned at once. Just down the hall, leaning against the wall stood a weary Cal Lightman. At first it was merely a shadowy figure until one of the men pointed a light at him, causing him to squint a bit. Sweat shined from his face, green eyes looking rather tired, and body even more so. He was slouching more than usual and leaning heavily on the corner wall for support. He raised his hand to block the light. "Is that really necessary?" he asked hoarsely.

"Cal Lightman," said Rader with a amiable smile.

"Rader, you bastard," Cal replied back, voice dripping with contempt.

Rader laughed and raised his arms openly. "Now, come on, is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Friend? No. Enemy terrorist, perhaps?"

Jack scoffed. "I'd hardly say I was a terrorist…"

"What do you w-…" Cal paused for a quick cough, but quickly recovered, "…want?"

That made Rader chuckle as he slowly strolled past Reynolds and Foster towards Lightman. "Why, Dr. Lightman…feeling a bit under the weather, are we?"

Cal did not reply, only bowed his head a little and continued to glare at Rader with warning eyes.

"I see," he continued. "Well, shall we move to someplace more comfortable while we talk things through? I don't know about you, but I'm a bit tired after a day like this, I could use a sit down."

Lightman exchanged glances with Reynolds and Foster. Reynolds curtly nodded his head and stepped up. "This way," he said firmly, beginning to lead the group into the conference room.

Rader followed right behind Reynolds, his two henchmen lagging to the back of the group. Foster quickly walked to Cal's side and took his arm to help him down the hall, casting a quick glance to the gunmen behind them. "Are you sure you should be up? Are you alright?" she whispered anxiously.

"Not much a choice here luv," he panted, still feeling quite exhausted. He flinched slightly as she reached a hand up to his forehead. "I'm fine…"

"It's gone down a little bit. Still warm but not as bad as you were earlier," she commented, trying to support him as much as she could as they slowly made their way down the hall.

Cal moved his arm up around her shoulder to lean on her a bit more, feeling badly that he had to use that beautiful woman as a crutch. But she gladly complied and gave him a weak smile. As they approached the door to the conference room, he withdrew from her and quickly planted a kiss on the top of her head when no one was looking. "Thank you, darling."

Inside, Rader had already taken a seat on one side of the table, Foster and Lightman sitting on the other. Reynolds stood behind his pair, arms crossed and a fierce look on his face, protective and loyal. One man stood behind Rader, the other stood by the door, guns tight in hand.

"So!" Rader said loudly, clasping his hands together with a broad grin on his face. "Let's get started, shall we?"

* * *

_apologies for the wait. school started. more on the way. stay tuned. _


	9. Crazy Bastard

**9. Crazy Bastards**

"Yeah, cut the crap, Rader," Cal said curtly, leaning forward to place his elbows on the table. It took every ounce of his being to not show how angry and hurt he was that his old protégé had turned out to be the evil behind their whole mess. "What the fuck do you want, eh? And why, please enlighten me, _why_ go to all of this trouble here?...If you wanted my attention, you could of just given me a ring, yeah?" He quickly stiffled back another oncoming cough, making Gillian a bit nervous.

Rader simply grinned like the idiot that he was and twisted slowly back and forth in the swivel chair. "Because, Lightman, you wouldn't have taken the time to listen to me any other way. Especially on the topic that I am about to propose to you."

"Oh yeah?" Cal cupped his chin in his hand and leaned forward even more, feigning interest. "Do tell."

"I want this business."

Across the table, Cal snorted. "You're right, mate, you're out of your bloomin' mind…"

Gillian quickly jumped in. "Jack, you've got your own firm. Why on earth would you want to go to all this trouble-…"

"Because…" Rader paused and swallowed, as if what he was about to say was going to cause him great pain, "you are the best, Cal."

"Yes. I know."

"And therefore, you're getting in my way. Lightman, do you have any idea how _rich _and _powerful_ you should be right now? It amazes me how stupid you can be sometimes, with a genius mind like yours. The greatest deception expert the world has soon. The best training programs…you've got 'mini-Lightmans' popping out of here every other month. You should be swimming in money right now." Jack paused for emphasis. "But you're not. Why? Because you just throw away cases that could pay you six figures. Instead you take up shitty cases for a couple hundred dollars just to find a kid's parent-…"

Cal quickly waved a hand. "Let me just stop you there, alright? You know _why_? Because I don't just find out who's lying and take their money, I take it a step further. My mission is to find out the truth, the bloody, cold truth. And _why_ they lied in the first place. I'm helping people, Rader. It's what we do here."

"You're on the verge of losing-…"

"Yeah? So? We're doing the right thing. We could go dark for all I care. So what's wrong with that if we're helping people?"

It was all Rader could do from laugh. "What's _wrong_? Cal, you're losing your business because you enjoy the warm fuzzies you get from being nice. You're the best, Lightman, but you're also a bit crazy."

Now it was Reynold's turn to snort. Cal probably would have chuckled as well, but a dreadfully loud cough took it's place. "_I'm_ crazy? Says the nut job who's throwing his life away by planting a bomb here? Yeah. That's logical."

"I'm not an idiot, Lightman. Here's what's going to go down," Rader reclined back in his chair with a grim look on his face. "You've got two choices. You can turn The Lightman Group over to me and take an early retirement, or I'm going to destroy it altogether. The building, your years of work, and more importantly…_you._"

* * *

_Sorry it's short. But hey, two updates in one night! …well I guess it's morning. But I find that wine is somewhat inspirational, along with some good music, so I thought I'd throw this up there. I actually mean to tag this onto chapter 8, but was in a bit of a hurry cos I was meeting some friends from out of town. Yes, I have a real life! Imagine that. Anyway, here ya go. More to come soon, seeing that I have a 4 day weekend now. …hopefully soon, anyway. Again, sorry for the shortness, but hey, updates are updates, right? Thanks again for the reviews, you guys are wonderful. _


	10. Let's Test Those Nerves, Shall We?

_Ah, the writer returns! And with theme music! Let's try this out, shall we? Totally optional, I know many people like to enjoy the silence in reading...but this is what I was writing to for this sort of dark-ish chapter..._

**www. youtube .com/watch?v=jl-v81hi2rQ**

_if you copy and paste that into another tab on your internet or something, erase the spaces after www. and youtube. this wenbsite doesn't let me type out the whole link like that for some reason, as I'm sure many of you know. so erase the spaces and then it will take you to my youtube site for the music. Or simply youtube . com/sidjamestdlemon1900. its sid, not sidney on there. couldn't fit it all in :( ANYWAY! Go on and read my next bit here. _

**10. Let's Test Those Nerves, Shall W****e? **

Back in Lightman's office, everyone else waited anxiously. Davidson and Shelia sat on one of Lightman's sofas in the corner, Davidson with his arm draped around Shelia's shoulder as she merely stared at the carpet with little emotion on her face, trying to keep calm. The young Tim Smith was pacing by Lightman's bookshelves, occasionally pausing to pick up a volume to examine it. Heidi tried to keep herself distracted and busy with some paper work as she anxiously worked on the coffee table. Loker and Torres were of course up by Lightman's office, Torres on the corner of the desk, Loker in the chair across from it, feet propped up on it.

Eli was extremely annoyed with their lack of power at the time since he had planned on hacking into Lightman's desktop to use the security cameras to keep an eye on things and to catch a glimpse at who their captors were. Instead, he casted a shifty glance at Torres. "How are your nerves?"

"We should be doing something," she hissed, "I'm tired of just waiting around for this crap."

"Well, what do you propose then, hmm?" Loker whispered back.

Ria paused as she considered. "We could take the fight to them."

An uncomfortable smile was set on Loker's face as he stood from his chair, touching Ria on the arm. The rest of the room glanced up at him and his sudden movement. "Let's move in here, shall we?" he suggested as he gently dragged her into the study next door. He cheerfully nodded at their onlookers as he slid the door closed. "Are you nuts?" he spat.

"What?"

"Take the fight to them? We don't even know who we're dealing with yet. We could get everyone here blown up and killed!"

"We could stop them though," Torres started, "Surely we've got the upper hand here. You, me, Reynolds, them…" she gestured to the four in the office, "they wouldn't see us coming."

Loker shook his head in utter disbelief. Normally _he _was the one with the wacky ideas and it was Torres who tried to keep him grounded. It was strange to be on the other side. "_No,_ you can't bring them into this."

"Then just you and me then. We would have the element of surprise on them…look…" she trailed off as she quickly went over to the far wall and kneeled down next to…

"Um…Torres, what are you doing? That's _Lightman's safe." _She gave no response to him as she fiddled around with the electronic keypad on the front of the silver safe. _We are definitely going to get fired. _"Ria, _stop,_" Loker tried again, stepping forward, "We are not about to break into Lightman's-…" he paused when the door open and he caught a glimpse inside. "…his…arsenal?" he concluded with a head tilt.

"He showed me this after Matheson was here…wanted to assure me that this can be a safe place if it was necessary," Torres explained as she reached in and pulled out two small pistols. She handed one to Loker.

"I'm not much of a shooter-killer-guy," Eli said weakly as he limply took the weapon from her.

With a small grin, Torres shrugged as she cocked the gun. "Just shoot 'em in the leg then."

Loker had to look away as he found gun wielding, tough women somewhat…hot. _We're not going to get fired. We're gonna die…_ he thought hopelessly.

-

The tension in the conference room was unbearable. Foster's eyes kept darting back and forth between Rader and Lightman, her face screwed up with confusion and worry. Lightman merely sat leaning forward against the table, starting calmly at his enemy across him. Reynolds was silent, but only for a moment before he slammed his fist on the table, causing Foster to jump a little and the gunmen to step forward, P90s raised.

"What the hell are you playing at, Rader?" Reynolds demanded. "You are out of your goddamn mind if you think you can get away with this."

"Well you see, Agent Reynolds, I'm not out of my mind because I _know _I'm going to get away with this. My alibi for this whole week is already safe. And as for you people…well, like I said, that can go one of two ways. One, you can try and fight me and you'll all die in the process, leaving me to be the only _living _deception expert left, therefore raking in all of your non-existent business. Two, you hand it over to me and walk away without causing a fuss."

Gillian spoke for the first time in a while. "And what makes you think we won't go straight to the authorities after this? You can't seriously expect us to just stay quiet forever."

Rader shook his head, that sickly grin still etched o his face. "No, I didn't expect that. Not willingly, anyway." The man paused and looked slowly at each of their faces. "How are your families doing today?" he asked darkly. "Reynolds, I'm sure your parents are just now finishing up dinner, and your father is getting ready to watch basketball like he does every night, right?" As he listened, Ben's hands clenched into fists as he began to breathe heavily with anger. "Foster…well, god only knows what your ex-husband is up to, right? But we've got our eye on him anyhow. Along with the daughter you never got to have, Sophie." Gillian raised a hand to her mouth and her eyes slowly began to glisten. Finally, Rader cocked his head to look at one last person. "Lightman…your ex-wife is probably just now heading back to her hotel in Chicago for a lonely evening of business and wine. And I'll bet you only _think _that Emily is home alone tonight."

In a flash, Cal jumped from his chair, sending it flying back into the wall, and reached over the table, close to attacking Rader right then and there. Reynolds was quick enough to grab Cal by the shoulder to help keep him back. Rader quickly scooted the chair back in surprise while the gunman behind him pointed the weapon at Cal's face. It took all of Reynolds' strength to keep Cal from flying across the glass table to strangle the man. "You son of a bitch!" he shouted as she struggled against Ben's strong arms. "You leave them out of this! Or I swear I'll-" he had to stop his raging as he let out a strangled sounding cough.

"Cal, stop!" Gillian pleaded as she too grabbed his arm and pulled him away, nearly in tears herself.

Rader only laughed as he waved to his partner to lower his gun. He placed both palms on the table and leaned in close to the furious Cal, whose eyes were flashing with rage. He was shaking, partly from the cold, partyly from pure hatred and anger. A few strands of messy, sweaty hair dangled in front of his forehead, jerking with every movement of struggle he made. Rader shook his head at the sight of him. "Or what? You'll sneeze on me? You can't do anything to me Lightman. Not if you want any of these people to live. I've trained my guys to not only be very skilled assassins, but experts of deception as well. I mean, hell, I learned from the best," he winked at Cal. "Your families have no idea that they are being watched and they never will. So let's say you turn me in after all this is over. As soon as I go to jail…your families will die. Simple as that."

Across the table, Cal was still being held back by Reynolds and Gillian as he stared daggers into Rader's body. After several tense moments, he quickly ceased his struggling as he started to feel weak again from his illness, slightly going limp in Ben's arms.

"Woah, woah, easy there, Cal…" Reynolds muttered as he had to shift his weight to hold Cal. Gillian quickly pulled the chair back under him as Reynolds eased him into it.

Cal stifled a cough and looked up at the grinning Rader with tired eyes. "You're a bloody bastard, you know." Beside him, Gillian was gently rubbing his back as he coughed horrendously again, feeling his body shudder beneath her palm. She looked worriedly up at Reynolds, but he was staring at Rader again.

"Yes, I know," Rader replied smoothly as he slowly returned to his seat as well. "Now, can we talk about my new company?"

* * *

_Evil money-lovin jerk. More to come. Oh, and thank you so much for the feedback from the last few chapters and the authors note. Thank you thank you. You all are wonderful! _


End file.
